#1 9/19/19
The past 7 months have been the best of my adult life.
In February I arrived at The Refuge: a Healing Place, in Oklafuckingwhaha, Fl. And immediately and repeatedly was told I belonged there. I don't remember names, I don't remember details very well, but I have his face clearly in my mind. He took me from the front porch over to the Nest, and then medial. The place seemed so large and so confusing. But he told me I belonged there. That I was in the right place. It is embarrassing I don't remember his name, the kind of embarrassment I should keep to myself and not publish on the interwebs. It isn't Kevin. unless you tell me it is. Nor Eric i don't think.
He told me I was in the right place. And he was always in the right place. even though I felt awkward because I don't know how to have human friends (or animal really either).
One day I had a tough session with the rapid eye moment and breathing lady who gets right in your face and slapped me a little bit and has you hit pillows with a tennis racquet... it was great... Anyway I left her room and wandered in a daze over to my cabin. Before I could sit down he was at my door checking on me, how the fuck did information travel so fast.
I ended up walking the labyrinth with my head up looking at the sky... Don of course saw me and told me later he was proud of me. My head has largely been up in any room I have entered since then.
See, I belonged.
Today I have not felt like I belonged anywhere. It started about 10 days when two people from my past life popped up and said. hey dickhead, you don't belong anywhere. One had been a groomsman and the other had been a sister.
I laughed and enjoyed their comments, they didn't dent my Armour, but they got in at the cracks and started to rust it. My sick mind had got me feeling that I didn't belong at The Refuge either. Sometimes I need a remember.
I still want the rustbuckets, the people that hurt me, to see and know me. And it still hurts that they wont, because they fucking could have if they tried even the smallest bit. It is comfort to know that I See and Know my own reality. It really is. But sometimes that comfort is chillingly cold.
I am not the same person who showed up at the refuge but today I started to slide back into him. I need help, I need friends, lovers, countrymenpeople. And that is ok. They might not come when,where,and how I want them. But they showed up today. And that is maybe the definition of grace.
In February I arrived at The Refuge: a Healing Place, in Oklafuckingwhaha, Fl. And immediately and repeatedly was told I belonged there. I don't remember names, I don't remember details very well, but I have his face clearly in my mind. He took me from the front porch over to the Nest, and then medial. The place seemed so large and so confusing. But he told me I belonged there. That I was in the right place. It is embarrassing I don't remember his name, the kind of embarrassment I should keep to myself and not publish on the interwebs. It isn't Kevin. unless you tell me it is. Nor Eric i don't think.
He told me I was in the right place. And he was always in the right place. even though I felt awkward because I don't know how to have human friends (or animal really either).
One day I had a tough session with the rapid eye moment and breathing lady who gets right in your face and slapped me a little bit and has you hit pillows with a tennis racquet... it was great... Anyway I left her room and wandered in a daze over to my cabin. Before I could sit down he was at my door checking on me, how the fuck did information travel so fast.
I ended up walking the labyrinth with my head up looking at the sky... Don of course saw me and told me later he was proud of me. My head has largely been up in any room I have entered since then.
See, I belonged.
Today I have not felt like I belonged anywhere. It started about 10 days when two people from my past life popped up and said. hey dickhead, you don't belong anywhere. One had been a groomsman and the other had been a sister.
I laughed and enjoyed their comments, they didn't dent my Armour, but they got in at the cracks and started to rust it. My sick mind had got me feeling that I didn't belong at The Refuge either. Sometimes I need a remember.
I still want the rustbuckets, the people that hurt me, to see and know me. And it still hurts that they wont, because they fucking could have if they tried even the smallest bit. It is comfort to know that I See and Know my own reality. It really is. But sometimes that comfort is chillingly cold.
I am not the same person who showed up at the refuge but today I started to slide back into him. I need help, I need friends, lovers, countrymenpeople. And that is ok. They might not come when,where,and how I want them. But they showed up today. And that is maybe the definition of grace.
I'm so proud of you. Your raw honesty is an inspiration!
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